Everything Burns
by Seren McGowan
Summary: Do you have the slightest idea of what years of lonelyness could do to a person? Some may think they do. But they don't. Pyro centric
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: **_I don't own (or like, for that matter) any of the x men movies. I don't own (but adore) the x men comics/cartoons, etc etc...everything belongs to Marvel. This story was born maily because the movieverse Pyro is so...not-Pyro, I wanted to do something to make him more...I don't really know, it's the influence of evo-Pyro, I guess, but I hope you like my little (and very free) re-writing of movie Pyro. It follows the line of the movies, but focussing on different things._

_All critics and coments are welcome (better of they're good, of course) And I am open to suggestions! Enjoy!_

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**Everything Burns**

"…_while everyone screams. Burning their lies, burning my dreams."_

* * *

The last thing he remembered from the outside world was the park, and his parents, and his father's zippo. His father's zippo had always fascinated him, why, he didn't know; maybe it was the fact that something so small could set free something so powerful.

-Open it, dad, open it.

His father smiled and said something, then lowered to his knees to be at his level and opened the zippo, lighting it up. He remembered that he held his hand up to touch the flame, but not what happened next. The memory was blurry and he had mind lagoons. The important thing was that suddenly all he could see was fire. His father's face was on fire, everything around him was on fire.

And then, screams. Those screams, his mother's, his father's. They still haunt him sometimes, even today.

He was seven.

The next thing he remembers is his mother standing before him, pained expression plastered on her face as she spoke to him.

-It's for the best, Johnny, try to understand.

Then she left and closed the door of his room behind her, locking it.

He never got to leave that room again.

Do you have the slightest idea of what eight years of imprisonment could do to a person?

Some may think they do. But they don't.

_-Mom? I'll be good, I promise._

_No answer._

_He never got an answer. He had tried to sneak out when his mother brought him food, but it was useless. St. John Allerdyce was seven, and all alone._

_Ah, no, except for the fire._

_The fire had started on the fifth day of his imprisonment. He doesn't remember much, just t hat he was cold, so he went to the adjoining bathroom and sat on the floor, leaning his back against the main heat._

_He fell asleep. A little too long, a little too late._

_When he woke up his shirt was on fire._

_He jumped, and the fire jumped with him. He screamed and took of the shirt, but his back was aching, and the fire wouldn't die._

_One scar, the first of many._

_Somehow, he doesn't remember how, he was too young, it's been too long, and the fire was everywhere. His pants were on fire, his shoes were on fire, his socks, the towels, the whole bathroom, the fire was everywhere and he was all alone._

_It was consuming him. He could smell his flesh burning, he could feel it, he could sense it in every pore of his body, the heat, the pain, oh, that pain, that pain he would never forget, that pain that broke him into pieces, that made every fiber of his body cry in agony._

_He heard his own screams, his own cries, but no one came._

_In the middle of all the pain, the heat and the burning, he got mad._

_-STOP! - He screamed. - Make it STOP!_

_And then, all of a sudden, the fire was gone._

_John opened his eyes and scanned his surroundings. The bathroom was all burnt, everything was black with ashes and smoke, and just a little flame remained, burning firmly on a corner.  
He wasn't able to move for a while. His body ached, from head to toe. His clothes had been reduced to straps, his hair had turned to ashes, and his skin was left a bloody and burnt mess of flesh._

_He doesn't remember how long it took him to realize it, but when he did, he was hungry for more._

_The next eight years, he spent them learning, mastering, getting stronger, bonding. The fire obeyed him; it bent to his every wish like it had never done before. It had consumed him, but he ruled it now._

_He was the phoenix that rose from the ashes. _

_He lost track of time. Days flew by and he slowly stopped caring. Stopped waiting for someone to get him out, stopped screaming to mom and dad to forgive him, and begun to focus on the fire._

_Again, he doesn't remember when, but the fire begun to talk to him, eventually. It smoothed him when he had a nightmare; it cuddled him and covered him when he was cold. It became part of him; it blended with his body until he was not able to feel cold again._

_-You will never be alone again, John. - It said. – I will burn down anyone who tries to hurt you._

_They lived together, the fire and him, until one day, the fire decided that that room was no longer enough._

_-Come on, John, we're leaving. Burn down the door and leave._

_-And what am I gonna do?_

_-You are going to burn down the house. We are going to set the world on fire._

His mother was scared to death at the sight of him, and John felt the need to reassure her.

-It's for the best, mom. Try to understand.

He smiled broadly at her, at the expression of de ja vú that crossed her face, and with a flick of his fingers, burnt the house down.

St. John Allerdyce was fifteen, and not alone anymore.

No, you have no idea what eight years of loneliness can do to a person.


	2. William Striker

**Notes:**_ Same dissclaimer as allways; Pyro not mine, X-men not mine, movies are bad bad bad. I would love to hear more opinions on movie Pyro, the things people liked about him and the things they didn't, anything to help me build a more Pyro-like Pyro. So, as I allready said, I'm open to all suggestions and opinions!_

_Thanks to aiRO25 and Annacat101, who reviewed last chapter and showed me that there are people apart from me who believe that movie Pyro sucks!_

_**aiRO25:** Your review was unexpected and made my day! I really love your stories, and I can say whithout doubt that you're one of my favourite authors, so your opinion means a lot to me! I know the "burnt the house down" was a little sudden compared to the rest, I had written a more extended explanation of that, but I figured that Pyro wouldn't really care what happened to his house, I mean, after everything, he wouldn't waste time thinking about it, so I just cut it short. I'm really happy you liked the first chapter, and I hope the rest of the story doesn't let you down!_

_**Annacat101**: You were my first reviewer! And I allways have a special thing for my first reviewer, so thank you very much! You are the first person who let me know that you liked this story, and that means a lot! I'm so happy to see that someone out there believes that movie Pyro was a little occ too!! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!_

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**William Striker**

_To William Stryker, John does not exist. It's just another mutant, another chance to build his perfect weapon. Another lab-rat.  
It's experiment number 98273725 , the pyromaniac._

* * *

He had been living on the streets for at least three months after burning his house and his parents down, and somehow ended up in the hands of a man named William Stryker.  
They took him to some kind of secret base located somewhere far away from his native Australia, and all he can remember is that the Striker dude was something like an ex-colonel obsessed with mutant experimenting.

His cellmate told him that. He doesn't remember his name, and he doesn't remember what happened there.

No, it's not that he doesn't remember. It's that he wants to forget.

_The cell was small, dark_ _and metallic. The food was awful and the air was son condensed it made it hard to breathe._

_The whole situation had him in a permanent state of de-ja-vú, and he had to laugh at the crude irony of it all._

_-Why the hell are you always laughing? – Asked his cellmate. - I don't see a fucking reason to laugh._

_John just laughed harder, because it was all too damn funny not to laugh._

_-Ya' know mate, I've been here before. - He laughed harder at the guy's confused expression. – This situation seems awfully familiar ta me._

_It took weeks to actually bring John down. Weeks and hours and hours of experiments and different kinds of pain he chooses not to remember._

_-My father's coming to get us out. - Said his cellmate one day, after they brought him back from the lab, all bloody and half-dead._

_-Yeah, really? My father's coming ta get us out too. - Then he laughed. - Only problem is he's dead, ya know? I killed him._

_The white-haired guy didn't talk to him for a while, but John was all right, he could always talk to the fire._

_--_

_-He has an amazing potential._

_-Do you think_ _he could survive the operations?_

_-Maybe, I'm not sure; we need to run more tests. But it's his mutation. His control has no limits. It is small now, and persistent, but it will expand, and it's capable of consuming everything in its way._

_-Just like fire. - Striked laughed._

_-Is it fun talking_ _about me as if I wasn't here?_

_John was tied up to the white metal bed on the centre of the lab, and the sedatives were beginning to wear off._

_-Ignore him.-Said the white coated guy to Stryker. – He's mentally unstable._

_-I am? Really? How d'you know? Have ya been in my mind? How does it look like ? - John smiled dangerously and his eyes lit up. - Is it all on fire?_

_-You're just a freak, kid. An experiment, you should be grateful I'm wasting my time on you._

_-I am, really, I am. - He begun laughing uncontrollably. He felt it, the time had come, the white haired bloke had been right, someone was coming._

_And then the fire called to him. It was very low, but he could still hear it, somewhere close. He could feel the heat, smell the smoke…  
He heard an explosion, followed by screams and alarms, and the people at the lab begun to run and call orders and leave in panic._

_Then the giant metal doors went flying across the room and the flames from the outside begun to burn their way into the lab._

_He laughed as the familiar sensation took over him. And after months of submission, he felt powerful again._

_-Let's go John, I'm here._

The next memories were blurry. He found his cellmate somewhere along his way and told him to thank his father for him. The guy's name was Pietro. He remembers now.

Then he burnt his way to the exit and left that damned place for good.

He was sixteen, and had no faith left in anything.


	3. Charles Xavier

**Notes: **_Dissclaimer remains the same, nothing is mine except the crazy plot and occness that will most likely happen. And I warn you, I'm not very good at being true to the characters (though that doesn't mean I try really hard!) but I'll try to do it the best I can._

_**aiRo**: I'm surprised you foud just that spelling error, because since english is not my first lenguage, I'm surprised my writing is even understandable! I'm seriously considering the idea of finding a beta or something...I liked the way Evo-Pyro laughed all the time, but I realize it doesn't really belong in this kind of story, he needs a little more time, so next chapters will contain less laughter and more..intospection, sort of. Your reviews help me so much, and for that I thank you!!_

_**PlonkerOnDaLoose:** I'm so happy you like it! and very thankfull that you let me know! Don't worry, there's a lot of real destrucion comming next, and not only on the inside of Pyro's head!_

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Proffesor Charles Xavier

_To Professor Xavier, John is childhood, is recklessness, is confusion, is mistreat, is hiding and guarding. Pyro is the result, Pyro is the living hell of a child that was never allowed to be a child.  
Pyro is insanity._

* * *

Xavier was the one that found him, a year later.

He remembers that like it was yesterday, though. He doesn't mind remembering that.

_His first year of freedom in America was spent in the streets, thieving to survive, lying and cheating, and burning. Always burning. With no one who cared, with no one to trust, and nowhere to go._

_He burnt down almost every shitty motel in which he stayed in, that when he was able to even stay in a motel. He burnt down a lot of things, on his days on the streets, but the one that really got him into trouble was a police station. He was in Washington, and he had been caught stealing a car. He didn't even remember why the hell he wanted a car, because he didn't know how to drive. Since he didn't have money, or legal tutors to call, he was thrown into a cell until someone found out what to do with him._

_That made it. He remembers the cold stone against his skin, the familiar sensation of claustrophobia taking over him._

_Trapped again, alone again, locked and abandoned, again. Every step outside his cell made him remember the lab, and the needles, and the doctors that came and went and gave him all kinds of pills and meds. He jumped at every sound, at every movement. They had taken his zippo and he had no way out._

_Until, on the second day of his imprisonment, one of the guards was stupid enough to smoke too close to his cell._

_-Hey, hey hey mate. - He jumped instantly at the smell, gripping the bars and beaming at the man. - You smoking? Oh, god, can I have one? Please?_

_The guard walked up to him and took a long drag of his cigarette._

_-Prisoners are not allowed to smoke._

_John smiled broadly and leaned against the bars._

_-Oh, but I'm not a prisoner, mate._

_-Hello, John. I'm here to bail you out._

_He started laughing uncontrollably as the cigarette consumed itself and ended up setting the man's moustache in flames._

_And then, everything was in flames, and it was perfection to his eyes._

_From there, he was taken to an asylum. This time he was too tired to struggle._

_-Fuck my luck. - He cursed, when two men dressed in white threw him into a padded cell. - Does no one care that I'm claustrophobic? Hello!! People! Never heard the word hospitality?_

_After a week at the asylum he decided that he had liked the cell at the police station much better._

_They assigned him a psychiatrist, but she didn't really helped much. She was too quiet and too calm and pissed John to no end. _

_-Why do you struggle so much, John? - She asked one day. - If you cooperated a little more, things would be much easier._

_-I'm claustrophobic._

_-Does believing that make you feel better about the way you act? _

_He tried for a moment to understand what was she saying, but gave up, realizing that all she said sounded like Chinese to him._

_-Fuck, sheila, being claustrophobic doesn't make me feel good at all!_

_He was sure she hadn't meant that, but hell, if she wanted him to understand, she would have to speak in his language._

_The worst part of being in the asylum –apart from being locked up in a cell- were the screams. Sure, there had been screaming on Stryker's lab too, but this screams were different. While the first ones were screams of agony and pain- physical pain- the ones he heard in the asylum were different, they were more…from the inside, he wasn't sure how to put it, but they seemed more mental than physical._

_He didn't understand them, and he wasn't able to see who they came from, and that scared him the most._

_-I wanna get outa here._

_-I know, John, soon._

_-When? _

_-We'll burn all this down, don't worry._

_When? How? Up, down? Was he in, was he out? Was that the sun shining through the window? Fuck, he didn't have a window. Was the door open? No, never open, but never closed eider, all white, too white, he hated white. Was someone talking to him? Was it the fire? Was it someone else? He was hungry, but he didn't want food. He was thirsty but he didn't want to drink. He wanted to wake up, dream and have a beautiful nightmare. Go to sleep and find that it was all a dream. Run run run run burn run burn run burn burn burn burn…_

_-He's mentally unstable._

_-Is it serious?_

_-Well, he is, what is officially called "clinically insane" We've tried anything, but he refuses to open up, or gets any better._

_-Let me talk to him._

_-Do you have any fire instrument with you? Like a lighter? He's not allowed near anything that can produce fire. He's a pyromaniac, too._

_The voices at the other side of the door died down and John sat up. Where had they gotten that he was a pyromaniac?_

_-They blokes like making things up. - He said to the bald man on a wheelchair that entered his cell._

_-I'm sure they do. - He answered, stopping at the other end of the room and staring at him. - Do you know why you are here, St. John?_

_-Look mate, I already talked enough with that lady with the notebook. I don't understand all that psychiatric shit talk, so don't waste your time._

_-Do you know why you're here, John? - He asked again, smiling slightly, emphasizing his words._

_John sighed and sat down cross-legged on the floor._

_-I burnt down a police station. - A smile crept to his lips at the memory, but he fought to suppress it. If he wanted to get out, he had to convince this people that he was sane._

_Witch he obviously was, but they just didn't get it._

_-You burnt down a lot of things, didn't you, John?_

_He stared at the man, suddenly guarded._

_-What do ya want?_

_-I want to give you a chance to get out of here for good. - The man moved the wheelchair closer to him. - I have a school for people like you, John, like us. What would you say if I offered you the chance to come with me?_

_He didn't trust the man at all, but something told him it was ok. Anywhere would be better than being locked up, anyway._

_-I'm claustrophobic. - He said, standing up._

_-I know. - The man extended his hand to him. - My name is Professor Charles Xavier._

Yes, he doesn't mind remembering that day, because Charles Xavier made him the offer that changed his life forever.


	4. Katherine Pryde

_**Notes:** Dissclaimer remains! This is for all you kyro fans out there! I've never really been a fan of this two togerther, but I guess they have their thing. Hope you enjoy!_

_**December LeBeau:** I'm glad you like it! Stay tunned, because I'm taking it to the end!_

_Big special thanks to** aiRo25**, who accepted being my beta. Don't be surprised if the quality of the chapters goes up from now on! (I've got myself an awesome beta, after all!)_

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**Katherine Pryde**

_To K__itty, John is scandal and laughter. He represents all the lines she would never dare to cross, and he is all the dreams she would never dare to dream. Pyro is danger in all its forms. To __Kitty, Pyro is the first step down the road to Hell.

* * *

_

The first time he saw her, he had been at Xavier's for almost a month. She was petite and beautiful, the kind of beauty you have to stare at twice to realize just how much it really gets to you. She was shy and smiley, and good.

And that is the main reason why he never, ever, talked to her.

Suddenly a memory fights its way from where it was hidden and he remembers. He _had_ talked to her, once, long ago. He doesn't remember why it is that he forgot.

_His first couple of weeks at Xavier's had been__,__for him, like being in heaven. Everything was big and spacious; his room was big and had a lot of windows, which he kept always open. For the first time since he could remember, he felt safe._

_The most difficult part was attending class. He __didn't__really mind going, and doing homework, and listening. Actually, he found out that he had an increasing passion for literature, something he would have never imagined, since he hadn't been able to read anything since he was seven, and he hadn't even read that much back then. What he found really difficult, even impossible the first days, was staying in class. The room full of people, the closed doors and windows, all the voices, all the breathings…__He had one or two (maybe more) attacks of claustrophobia until Professor__Xavier started having sessions with him__to help him control it._

_He was so thrilled, so relaxed, that it was not difficult to ignore the voice of the fire speaking in his head, urging him to burn something, or someone, for that matter. He__found out that, on those occasions when the voice was too strong and his sanity slipped slightly, he could write down all his thoughts, and he would be in control again._

_He wrote to find control, and from__the first time his pen touched the paper, he never stopped writing._

_He had been watching her from afar for almost half a year, but he ignored her completely when they were in the same room, or even hanging out with the same group of people. Bobby had often asked him why he disliked her so much, to which he had only answered that he never disliked anyone._

_For John, there was hate, and not-hate. Nothing more, nothing in between. And he didn't hate Katherine Pride._

_One day, after a night of nightmares, and when he felt his mind was not stable enough to get him through the morning lessons, he skipped class and spent all morning writing under a tree in the garden. He loved being outdoors,__the absence of walls surrounding him calmed him in a way nothing else could._

_That day was the first he talked to her, and the last._

_"Why do you hate me?" she asked bluntly, appearing out of nowhere and flopping on the grass in front of him._

_He raised his eyes from the notebook he was writing in and shrugged._

_"I don't hate you."_

_She scoffed in a very unladylike manner and passed a hand through her long brown hair._

_"There must be a reason why you've been ignoring me so openly since day one." She bit her lip, and suddenly seemed worried, almost remorseful. "Did I do something? If I did, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to..."_

_He cut her off__because she seemed really upset about something he wasn't really getting._

_"Are you upset about something you did?" he asked, confused, half-closing his blue eyes. _

_She stopped talking and stared at him with her mouth open for a moment._

_"I…wait. What?" She shook her head and imitated his confused expression. "Did I do something to make you hate me?"_

_He studied her in silence. Why did everyone keep on saying he hated her? How could he ever hate her? The freckles on her nose amazed him, and the way she pursed her lips made him want to kiss her; the way she laughed made him want to laugh; sometimes, even, the sound of her laugh was stronger than the voices in his head. _

_And sometimes, he had the strong urge to burn everything around her._

_"You are dangerous for my sanity," he said with a strangled laugh. "If I were you, sheila, I wouldn't come near me."_

_She shook her head, suddenly frowning. "What the hell do you mean by that?"_

_He laughed loudly at the question, but stopped instantly when he noticed the change in his laugh, imperceptible to most, but clear to him._

_"Why's it so important that I don't hate you?"_

_"I... I don't know."_

_They stared at each other for a while, in silence, until the silence became too loud for him._

_"Hate is relative," he said, closing his eyes and leaning his back on the tree behind him. "You can hate something so much, you end up loving it, just like you can love something so much, you end up hating it. Any of those can be extremely dangerous if taken to the limit."_

_She seemed to ponder what she was going to say next, but he knew she had understood even before she spoke._

_"I don't hate you either, John."_

_And with that she stood up and left._

_They never talked again._

_It was not hate, and it was not love. They were never in love, and they would probably never be. They were standing in the limit; they were like the remaining brass of a fire; it could either consume itself and die without causing any harm, or it could light up something and start a fire._

_John was eighteen__and knew all too well that every fire could get easily out of control._

_And, for the first time, there were things he didn't want to burn._

It had been too short to be called a conversation, but for him, it had been enough. Katherine Pride became the heroine of all his stories. But he was always the bad guy, never the hero. He never wrote a happy ending.

Now he remembers why he forgot.


	5. Bobby Drake

**Notes: **_Dissclimer stands, nothing's mine! I'm sorry thistook sooo long, but my computer broke down and it took me a while to get everything back together.I hope next chapter can be up sooner!_

_**December LeBeau:** This took even more than last chapter, sorry about that x3 but don't worry, I don't plan on taking that long anymore! I haven't had time to read your stuff since Ijust got my computer back, but I promise to read it as soon as I can! Thanks very much for taking time to read!  
**PlonkerOnDaLoose**: Thanks a lot for reviewing, I'm so happy you like my portrayal of Pyro, I'm trying to make himas likeable as possible without loosing, well, Pyro xD_

_And as always, special thanks to **aiRo25**, for being an awesome beta. I think I made all the changes you suggested (except for the out of control part, but I simply couldn't make it work any other way.) I hope the result is satisfying!_

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_**Bobby Drake**

_To Bobby,__ John is fun and games and a never ending of out of control. John is friendship and rivalry and all the bravery __he wishes he could have.  
_

_Pyro is betrayal and pain. For Bobby, Pyro is not John.

* * *

_

He wishes he could forget Bobby, but he knows he can't. He remembers Bobby for what he _was _because what he's become is too far for him to see. He remembers Bobby before Magneto, Bobby before the cure, Bobby before the hate.

Bobby before the Pyro.

Then he thinks that maybe, just maybe, Bobby's not the one who changed.

_He had befriended Bobby the first __week at Xavier's. The pair had met in their first class and had connected immediately. Maybe it was because John was everything Bobby was not and vice versa. Bobby, with all his calmness and soft voice and easy smile, was the only one capable of calming John down whenever he lost control of his powers__—__or himself. _

_When Pro__fesor Xavier decided it was safe to install St. John in a shared room, Bobby Drake seemed to be the best option as a roommate, mostly, because he was John's closest friend, not to say the only one. John was happy with having things that way. Sharing a room with Bobby was li_ke _a constant party, even though Bobby had a little trouble getting used to John's tendency to break as much rules as possible._

_John smoked a lot, almost two pa__cks a day, but it wasn't as many for the calm that nicotine brought him, as for having the smell of smoke always filling his nostrils. _

"_That thing is going to kill you, John." Said Bobby, leaving his first bottle of beer aside, half empty._

_John stared at him and took anoth__er drag, glancing at the three empty beer bottles that lay on the floor next to his bed and the one he had in his free hand. Sometimes, it amazed him just how damn different he and Bobby were. _

"_There're lots of things that could kill me, mate, like thunderstorms, or serial killers, or long stairs…or humans. " He laughed at his own hidden joke, but Bobby didn't seem to get it. _

_Truth is, Bobby never__ really got anything._

"_Humans are not a threat."__ He said, frowning slightly and leaning back against his bedpost. "We're here to protect them."_

"_And who's gonna protect us?" John scoffed and swallowed the remains of his beer._

_Bobby laughed suddenly and smiled brightly._

"_We'll protect each other."_

_The fire closed around him li__ke waves of burning heat. He heard screams and curses, and he saw his mother staring at him and saying "It's for the best, Johnny" before she closed the door and he was locked alone in a big white room._

_Then there were pills and needles, and __people dressed in white and Stryker's face laughing at him. He felt the blinding pain, he heard the screams of the other prisoners and he heard his own screams, his own laugh, his own loneliness._

_And then, suddenly__, the fire disappeared, and Stryker and the other people dressed in white backed away from him in fear. Then he heard the voice._

"_It's me, Johhny, c'mon man, wake up."_

_Bobby was the first person he saw when he woke up from his nightmares, and, with time, they __had begun to fade, because a big wall of ice surrounded him and made sure that nothing, and no one, could hurt him anymore._

"_Bad dream?" __Asked Bobby, staring down at John's terrified face. "Relax, ok? Whatever it was, you're safe now."_

_John nodded, and stared at Bobby's blue eyes (just __like his) for a second before Bobby returned to his own bed and left him to stare at the ceiling._

_Sometimes, it amazed him how alike he and Bobby were, in the most essential aspects._

The nightmares came back just after the first fight they had as enemies, and St. John knew that he had broken something that had been too big to ever be rebuilt again.

Sometimes, even now, he wonders if Bobby thinks of him. He knows he remembers, because Bobby was never the one to forget, but he wonders if Bobby really, actually, still cares enough to think of him sometimes. He smiles, because even now, when he has an especially terrible nightmare, he can see the ice wall building around him in his mind again, and he knows that Bobby does care, after all.


	6. Rogue

__

**Dissclaimer:**_ Not mine not mine not mine! I'm sorry for the looong wait, but I'm back home for summer vacation and I don't have internet here yet, so it's a little difficult to upload. I hope expect to have internet soon, so please keep being patient with my updates!_

**December LeBeau: **_YOU are one of the most awesome reviewers ever! It's great when someone sticks with your story for so long, so I'm very very happy you do!  
**LoonyLovegoodLuvr: **I never expected to make someone cry with a story. You just made me (and my muse) very very happy. I hope this chapter doesnt dissapoint!_

_And as allways! Very special thanks to **AiRo25** because she's awesome. (And I'm really improving my english grammar thanks to her x3_

__

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**Rogue**

_To Rogue, John never really existed. She sees Pyro all over him, she sees fire everywhere he goes, and she hears screams every time he's near.  
To Rogue, John is just like Marie: a reflection on a broken mirror that would never manage to become completely real. _

* * *

Even though he knows her name, John never called Rogue "Marie" because she never looked like Marie to him. She was the word "almost" in all it's meaning. She still is, he thinks. She was almost Marie, but never good enough. She was almost Rogue, but never strong enough. She was almost an X-man but never believed enough. She was almost a mutant, but never proud enough. She was almost human, but never weak enough.

Pyro remembers her most of all, because remembering her is like remembering John, everything John was not, and everything Pyro is. Everything Marie is not and everything Rogue could be.

__

_The first time he saw her, she seemed lost and alone, but most of all, afraid. She was afraid of everything, and that made him feel…less lonely somehow._

_She had nightmares regularly, just like him, and it was one of those nights, just after a nightmare, when he found her curled on a sofa in the common room. _

_She was almost crying, but not quite._

_"What are yah doing here?" she asked, all red eyes and soft broken voice, when he sat on the floor in front of her. _

_"Had a __nightmare," he answered, leaning back against the sofa behind him. "What's your excuse?"_

_She frowned slightly, passing a hand over her eyes and sighing. "Had a nightmare too. They just won't leave meh alone, ya know?"_

_He tilled his head to the side, confused.__ "Who?" _

_"The voices in mah head, they…they nevah shut up." Her eyes began watering again, and she dropped her gaze to the floor._

_John laughed and raised a hand, showing two fingers, like indicating that there were two of them. "That makes two of us, sheila."_

_They made a habit, from that day on, of meeting in the common room every time they had a nightmare. Even when Rogue started dating Bobby, it was John she went to after a bad dream, not because she didn't love Bobby, but because John understood. He simply…knew._

_John never really liked having company on those moments when his sanity seemed to slip though his fingers because he never knew when he would lose it again.__He had been….calm at Xavier`s, and his sessions with the professor had helped him a lot. But he was realistic. He knew this…sanity was too frail to last._

_Sometimes he wished he could just let go and burn the world down._

_"What do they say?" __asked Rogue, almost whispering, but not…quite. _

_"There's just one, most o' the time" John shrugged and moved to sit Indian style on the sofa. "It wants me to burn…everything."_

_Suddenly, the look on his face changed, the smile on his lips grew bigger and his eyes shone with an insane kind of spark that made her shiver._

_"Burn, John, burn burn burn. It repeats a lot, again, burn burn burn burn…." He stops and takes a breath, his eyes wandering lost. "Burn the needles, and the white coats, and burn burn burn...burn the room….burn…."_

_She touches him then, bare handed, because she's suddenly scared of him. The touch is brief and it's over in an instant, but it's enough for her to know, and enough for him to breathe.__ He doesn't feel so lonely since then, and she doesn't feel so miserable, because she feels like she doesn't have the right. _

They have seen each other a couple of times since their last night meeting. Fighting on different sides, but wanting always the same. They both want the voices gone, but neither of them chooses the right way.

He had wanted to ask her to join Magneto, when he saw her on the line for the cure, but she was more "almost" than ever.

Pyro knows that when she's done being almost Rogue, and becomes The Rogue completely, the voices will leave and she'll be badass, and kind of awesome.

He wonders what he would need to become in order to make his own voices go away.


	7. Magneto

**Notes_:_**_ I know it's been a very very very long time, but I've been out of internetand pretty incomunicated lately (wich is good,somehow, because I've been writing a lot x3) Also, I got a new policy, I'll upload a new chapter for every two reviews I get, after all, writers live on reviews!_  
_Thanks a lot to **December LeBeau**, because it's awesome having someone who reviews on all chapters, and, because of that, next chapter goes to you x3 (because I gess that your name adresses to a certain cajún?)_

_And as always, very special thanks to** aiRo25**, because I give her a lot of work with all my spelling erros and stuff, and she's great! (I added a littleexplanation on the insane thing, I hope it's understandable)_

**Aclaratory note:** _At the beginning of the chapter I mention something about Pyro being omega. I know he's not, but since the movie people like doig whatever they want to the characters, I might as well do it too. I have a small polt in development so Pyro can turn to omega at the end of the story (involving evolution, creating fire and the cure) Please feel free to tell me what you think! I'd love to hear opinions!_

* * *

**Magneto**

_Magneto never knew John. To him, there's only Pyro. Pyro is power in all its forms, is a revolution waiting to happen. Pyro is greatness, is evolution.  
____To Magneto, Pyro is part of the greatest generation of mutants. Pyro is omega._

_

* * *

_

When he joined Magneto, Pyro didn't feel like he was betraying Xavier.

Xavier had wanted to help him, and he did. He had tried to convince him of his beliefs, maybe a little too much, and that didn't really work. Maybe he could have managed to convince John, but John was long gone, and Pyro simply didn't believe.

Xavier had taught him to do what he felt was right, and joining Magneto was, for him, the right thing to do. He had known the moment Magneto asked him for his real name that he was destined to do bigger things, to fight on a bigger team, to pursue a bigger dream.

And he believes in Magneto's dream in a way he never believed in Xavier's.

__

_He remembers the feeling when he first arrived at Magneto's base; it was so primal, so essential, so fulfilling, something he had forgotten long ago; there, in that big, dark and cold compound, he felt at home._

_He decided in that moment that all the fights, the battles, the betrayals, the loneliness and the pain were worth it. That feeling was worth everything._

_The first other mutant he saw when he arrived, apart from Mystique, was Pietro. Pyro had a vague memory of him, but Pietro seemed to remember him perfectly._

"_Maaaan, you-were-so-fucked-up! You-look-so-much-better!" Pietro spoke a little too fast for Pyro to understand him completely, but he enjoyed the ease__with wich__he accepted him on the team. "What-happened-to-you?"_

_He never completely answered Pietro's question, and Pietro changed the subject pretty fast (he seemed to have a tendency to do that a lot.)_

_Pietro was not Bobby, but then again, Pyro was not John._

_Bobby had been a friend. Pietro was part of a home._

_His room at The Base was not as big as the one at Xavier's__ and only had a small window that wasn't nearly enough for Pyro to feel completely confortable._

_He was writing on his desk one night, a week after his arrival, trying to mitigate the horrible feeling of imprisonment the small room gave him when Magneto knocked on his door and sat down on the edge of his bed. He looked old and tired, like a man who's fought too many battles but refuses to stop, because he doesn't know about anything else._

"_How are you adapting, Pyro?" The question seemed too trivial to not have a hidden meaning, but Pyro answered anyway._

"_'Been in worse places" He stopped typing and shrugged._

_Magneto laughed. It was a strong noise, authoritative, imposing, a little too much, even, and it didn't suit his appearance at all._

"_All the worst places are really the best." Pyro stared, confused, so Magneto continued. "All that humans and all the mutants who help them, do you think they know what it is to be caged? Do you think they understand what it is to be looked down on__? Do you think they have ever felt the loneliness of being abandoned by everyone they cared for?"_

_Magneto's voice was soft, clear and hypnotic, not the voice you'd__expect from an old man. Just like his laugh; it made Pyro wonder if that voice really belonged to that body._

"_All those places you've been. All the loneliness, all the fear and all the humiliation...You are not like those kids at Charles's school; you are stronger. You have been through the biggest trial of all, and you have passed."_

_And then he repeated those words, the ones that had gained John's attention, and led him to become Pyro completely._

"_You are a God among insects, Pyro. And this place..." He gestured to the room,__opening his hands and extending his arms "...is the Olympus." _

_Then he stood up to leave but stopped on the doorway and looked back at Pyro._

"_Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't have what you want."_

_Pyro glanced through his room, once Magneto was gone, and suddenly, it didn't feel so small anymore._

_Magneto had changed his point of view about everything. He had given him a dream, he had given him a home, and he had made him realize that he was so much more than a bunch of nightmares and moments of insanity._

He remembers perfectly, and with a pride he never thought he'd feel, the moment when the walls Professor Xavier had built to steady his mind fell down, and he was completely free; his views of the world expanded and changed and got tangled up in his head. He saw a new world, a new order, he saw everything only crazy people are allowed to see.

Pyro was nineteen, and he was insane.

Magneto had offered him the world, and he was going to take it.


	8. Remy LeBeau

**Notes:**_ It's been a long time, and everyone who was reading has probbably lost interest by now, but the truth is, this story has so litle reviews that keeping it alive has been very difficult. It's been in the verge of being abandoned almost since it begun, but since I promised myself that I was going to finish all my stories, it's going to be finished._

_Special thanks to **laenamoradadeROGUE**, because she reviewed last chapter._

_One more chapter to go._

* * *

**Remy LeBeau**

_Gambit assumes John was just like the others, kneeling down in fear. Pyro is standing up, he is letting one self go. Pyro is leaving everything behind, he is walking away.  
To Gambit, Pyro is the freedom he wishes he could have.  
Pyro is never, never looking back._

* * *

The first mission Magneto gave him was to find the mutant named Gambit and talk him into joining their team. Pyro does not remember their first encounter because it was his first mission, he remembers it because Gambit made his mind go back to someone he used to know.

Gambit was just like Rogue.

He was almost a good guy, but never good enough, he was almost evil, but never bad enough, he was almost a man, but never complete enough.

Pyro smiles when he remembers Gambit, because he thinks, sometimes, that if he and Rogue had met, they could have been unstoppable.

Fate's a bitch.

_The first time he sees him, the man named Gambit is diking bourbon in the booth of a dark, cheap and filthy bar._

_"Nice place" Pyro comments, sliding into the tall chair next to him and motioning to the barman to bring him a whiskey._

_Gambit chuckles, but doesn't turn to him._

_"Who sends y'?"_

_Gambit was like that, almost confident, but always too suspicious._

_"Doesn't matter, mate"_

_"What matters, 'den?"_

_Pyro's smirk grows into an insane smile, and Gambit finally turns his ray-ban covered eyes to him._

_"What mattes is that we're gonna set this world on fire" His tone is and exited whisper, and his words linger in the smoke filled air of the bar " We're gonna cause mayhem, mate, it'll be epic"_

_Gambit seems to ponder for a moment. Pyro notices that his leg is bouncing at a rapid pace, like he's nervous._

_He's almost calm, but he has too much energy to stay still._

_"Epic" Gambit repeats, in a husky whisper " An'...what d'y want t'achieve? What's de' catch?"_

_Pyro remains silent for a moment, sipping at the cheap whiskey that burns his way down his throat. _

_He's never though about that. He knows Magneto has a plan, and that plan leads to something important, but Pyro never really cared about what it was._

_"It doesn't matter, mate" He answers, again._

_"What matters?" Gambit's tone is amused now, almost like he's having fun. Almost._

_Pyro smiles again._

_"Nothing matters, as long as you can, ya know, just let yourself go"_

_Gambit is almost tempted to accept the offer, but he's too cautious, and simply leaves the bar with a chuckle._

_The next time they meet, Gambit is running from someone. Pyro doesn't know who and he doesn't care._

_Gambit's always running from something, anyways._

_"Ya could stop, ya know?" He says, as he approaches his poker table, at yet another filthy bar._

_Gambit's head instantly turns to him, and his lips curve into an almost smile._

_"Well, if it isn't toi again. Followin' Gambit, much?"_

_Pyro laughs and takes a seat across from him, waiting until Gambit has dispatched all his contenders and they're alone to begin talking._

_"My boss really wants ya ta help us" He says "There's a war coming"_

_"Gambit's on no one's side"_

_Pyro smiles and grabs a card from the table, flicking his lighter open and setting it on fire._

_"It's not about sides" Hes says, as the flames dance from one card to another "It's about chaos"_

_And then, like he has done so many times before, he let's his control slip of his fingers as the flames consume the entire table, and then the entire room._

_Pyro laughs and laughs until they're outside, breathing hard and gasping for air, and Gambit finally takes of his glasses to focus his red on black eyes on the young man before him._

_"Y' are insane, pour l'amour d' Dieu, y' are out of y're fuckin' mind!"_

_Pyro's laugh dies slowly, and he stares back._

_"Ya wish ya were, too, don't ya?"_

_They remain silent for a moment, until the sound of the police cars and firefighters becomes too loud and too close for comfort._

_"We should leave" Gambit says, beginning to walk down the street. "Y' can tell me more about y'er boss while we walk"_

_Pyro smiles. Gambit is always almost leaving._

He never got Gambit to fully join Magneto, but they work together sometimes. It's probably for the best, Pyro thinks, because Gambit's loyalty hops from one side to another too frequently for anyone to trust him completely.

He's almost trustworthy, but for a too brief period of time. He almost believes in the cause, but no cause is never good enough for him.

Thinking back, suddenly, Pyro remembers something he had forgotten.

He didn't save anyone in that bar, but neither did Gambit.

Yeah, Pyro really likes Gambit.


	9. StJohn Allerdyce

_**Authoress notes: **__I know this took reeeeally long, but it's here now, and this story is finally complete. It's been a really long time since the first chapter came up, and sometimes I really thought of abbandoning it. But it's here, it's finished, and I am very happy with the result._

_Special thanks to all my reviewers, because if this story is here, it's all because of you. So, my most sincere than yous too **WeAreTomorrow, Olivia**, and specially, **December LeBeau**, because without their reviews, this chapter would have never been up._

_A very very special thanks to **aiRo25**, because if this story is of any quiallity, it's all thanks to her. She is the most amazing writter, and beta._

_Again, thanks to all of you who stuck with me during all the story, and I hope that the end doesn't dissapoint you._

* * *

_**St John Allerdyce**_

_John was like a blank canvas. Pyro is a pattern drawn with blood drops, pain and death._  
_To John, Pyro is the only way to survive._  
_Sometimes, Pyro does not remember John._

* * *

He opens his eyes slowly, and there's a buzzing in his head that refuses to stop. It's been there for a long time now. He doesn't know how long, because in this cell, time is not really something that matters. It could have been days, weeks, years...He doesn't really care.

But the buzzing gets stronger. It's strange because it was always the same before. Now it's getting stronger.

He pushes himself off the hard, metal bed and lies down on the cold floor, closing his eyes again and trying to ignore the fact that he is locked inside the smallest room he's ever been** in.** Really, really small. So small, he could cross it in ten steps. He has counted them. He has counted them so may times, he knows the number by heart. And there are no windows, no sounds...

He forces himself to stop thinking.

The buzzing keeps getting louder, and his body temperature seems to rise with it. He is suddenly very, very, very hot. It's like his skin is on fire, like his insides are on fire, and it's burning it's way through his whole body.

He opens his eyes and sits down to stare at his hands.

There's a tingling sensation on his fingers, like...like they're going to burn.

He laughs. It's impossible. There's no fire. It's been a long time without fire. Probably there's never going to beany more fire. He's never really been a hopeful person, and it's obvious that there's nothing to be hopeful about.

Nothing is going to burn anymore. They lost, and nobody is going to come for him.

It's only fair, he thinks. Hebegan locked up, and he ends locked up. The story of his life.

He begins to scream and laugh and scream a little more. He screams for the fire and for the aching sensation on the palms of this hands and for the buzzing inside his head. He screams louder and louder; he laughs harder and harder.

Then, suddenly, something _snaps_, and he is quiet.

It's like something has opened inside of him. The heat grows, and he is burning from the inside out. The buzzing stops, and a voice rises, so very softly, in his head.

He remembers the voice. He's been remembering a lot, lately.

"Hello, John, it's been a long time"

He stands, almost paralyzed.

"I'm here now, John. You've brought me back. You are so much stronger than the last time I saw you."

Pyro scans the room for something, some sign that someone's playing a joke on him. But there's nothing, in this room there's just him...and the voice of the fire.

"There's no fire," he murmurs, nervously. "There's no fire"

The fire laughs in his head.

"There's fire inside of you, John."

Pyro looks back at his hands. They're burning now, literally. There are black burnt marks and the skin is peeling off, and the pain is unbearable...and then there's fire.

There is fire.

It's been a long, long time since he last saw fire. But it's there, coming from somewhere inside of him, lighting him up. The sudden feeling of power overwhelms him and chases away the hurting. His pained gasps become a strong laughter that echoes in the small, cold room.

There are sounds coming from the outside. He closes his hands to extinguish the fire and directs his attention to the door.

There's anticipation in the air. He is high, so very high. His smile is growing by the second.

"You can't be here! Carter, we have a breach..."

"Well, 'ello to y' too, mon ami."

Pyro remembers. He remembers and he smiles, listening very carefully as the husky voice turns into a whisper, a very, very soft, hypnotizing whisper.

"Gambit thinks y' should leave. An' tell the others t' leave too, 'kay? There's nothin' going on 'ere Nothin' t' worry about. Y' all got free day."

There's a very brief pause, and then the guard speaks again, his voice low, tone flat.

"Yes, you're right. I am going to leave, and the others should leave too..." Another pause "Carter, tell everyone to leave the building, they're giving us the day free. There's nothing to do here."

There's footsteps and the sound of metal doors opening and closing, and then there's the laugh of a woman.

"My, my Gambit, aren't you a charmer?"

"Qu'est-ce que je peux dire, Gambit's awesome like that."

"Now, what do you think are the probabilities of all the cells opening at the same time just about now?"

Gambit's husky laugh fills the air, and it almost drowns the sound of the reinforced metal door of his cell unlocking.

Almost.

Pyro pushes the door open, and the sudden light almost blinds him. It's been a long time without light, he remembers.

"Pyro."

He forces his eyes open, and when they finally adjust to the light, he sees a woman standing before him. She looks just about his age, long black hair cascading down her back and sparkling blue eyes fixed on him. There's a triumphant smile playing on her lips.

"My name is Scarlet Witch. My father sends his regards."

Then Gambit, who had been leaning casually against the opposite wall of the corridor walks up to stand beside the woman and grins at him, red on black eyes shining with delight.

"Y' wanted chaos, mon ami, an' chaos y' shall get."

And then, for the first time since he got out, a speechless Pyro takes a look around the corridor; the cells are open, and there's mutants everywhere. Mutants with powers, powerful mutants.

"The cure..." He tries to speak but his mouth is dry. It's been too long without speaking, his voice is rusty and his throat hurts.

"The cure failed," Scarlet Witch explains, voice high enough for everyone to hear her. "For them." She adds, smiling, "But the side effects have proven to be very beneficial to us."

"Anyone feelin'...stronger?" Gambit's grin is bigger now, almost a smile.

There are voices rising and people talking and a lot of noise and laughs and yells and grunts and curses, and they all have three things in common: they are loud, they are free, and they are more powerful than before.

"Look at that, John. Look at that. We are rising." The fire speaks to him, exited.

Pyro smiles.

"We don't have much time. We must leave now. There's a member of the Brotherhood on ever floor that will guide you to the exit where a guy named Proteus will lead you to a safe house."

And as everyone begins to walk to the stairs and elevators, Pyro turns back to stare at his cell one last time.

"Never again," he whispers a promise. "Never again."

The Scarlet Witch and Gambit lead the way, and Pyro walks in the back, burning everything as he passes.

He is laughing, and he is burning, and that is everything he needs.

Seems like the story of his life is changing. Again.

_"You are going to be a good man,__ John," His father told him a long time ago, when he was five.__ "You are going to do great things." _

And John could have been a very, very good man, he thinks. But Pyro decides to forever forget about him.


End file.
